


01

by ccoli



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Thor (Movies), Thor - All Media Types
Genre: 2nd Person, M/M, fucked up timeline, not chronologically told
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-27
Updated: 2013-11-27
Packaged: 2018-01-02 19:54:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1060933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ccoli/pseuds/ccoli
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki is scared.</p>
            </blockquote>





	01

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [We Spent Our Darkest Days Howling at the Moon](https://archiveofourown.org/works/298333) by [stereobone](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stereobone/pseuds/stereobone). 



> Hey guys, this is my first actual fanfiction! I whipped this up half asleep on 2 school nights when my internet was out aha  
> It was kinda indirectly inspired by [one of my favourite Thorki stories. Ever.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/298333?view_adult=true) And by a gifset of Tom Hiddles and some kids, but I will link that once I find it again. Alright.
> 
> Thanks to [Paige](fireinhisfists.tumblr.com) for beta-ing and supporting me!
> 
> Here we go.

He’s good, they say, when you show them a picture of him. Good. They call this monster _good_ , him, he who loves tearing you apart more than anything else.

It’s because they don’t know him like you do, you’re sure of it. You know this side of him, the feral, animalistic one—and you want to scream at them, tell them that he is not their golden, nice, sweet boy, not all the time, but you don’t, you can’t; you never get even a single word out because you’re afraid of sharing him, you want him all for yourself, greedy as you are. There are many words you could use to describe him, but _good_ doesn’t seem right, not anymore, not after everything the two of you have done.

* * *

 

He doesn’t know, you think on the next day, when you tell him of the comparison, and he laughs loudly and wholeheartedly and slaps you on the back, too hard, almost, but it doesn’t hurt, not really. You snarl and turn around, ready to leave, but he grabs your wrist and pulls you in, pulls you back to himself and there is nothing you can do; there never was anything you could do, not even if you wanted to, because he always pulled you in, kept you in his own field of gravity, not letting you go, and you wonder, _maybe he’s just as greedy and jealous and afraid as you._

 

But you can’t find yourself to care, no; not when he cradles you in his arms and frames your face with his hands, pressing his forehead against yours and mumbling warm, soft promises. Your lips aren’t touching, not yet, he loves to pull this romantic bullshit on you, but you let him have his way.

 

And almost as if he was reading your mind, as always, he leans in and murmurs against your cheek, his stubble grazing over your skin and it’s just the right kind of poking and soft pain that makes your breath hitch in your throat. You pray that he doesn’t hear it, it’s humiliating how vulnerable he makes you feel, but of course he still notices; you feel him smile against your skin, and before you can consider shoving him off just because, he’s mouthing at your jaw and that spot behind your ear and you’re a trembling, whimpering mess in his arms.

 

He’s so fucking smug about it, too, you know and hate it, but you cannot do anything to stop him- when he’s like this, you melt right on the spot and he’s used this knowledge to his advantage many more times than you’d like to admit. His stubbly jaw rubs against your smooth one, his hot breath hits the shell of your ear, and you make one of these horribly undignified, involuntary noises deep down in the back of your throat but it feels like something was reborn inside of you and it is so good and worth it and you couldn’t care less, no, not as long as he keeps making you feel like this.

* * *

 

He doesn’t know, you think, when he slams you against the door before you were able to unlock the apartment, eyes red and puffy from your tears, and you fight him, try to pry him off you, this time you’re serious and not just pretending as usually, but you can’t escape, he’s trapped you against the door and the tears just won’t stop dripping from your eyes. He raises a hand to your face, and you flinch—and make him put on the most hurt expression you’ve ever seen on him. He tells you that he wouldn’t ever hurt you, he wouldn’t, and cups your cheek, wiping away the streak of tears with surprisingly gentle fingers, and then lets you go.

 

He looks like a kicked puppy, and you feel like shit, even though you just found him making out with one of the girls from his astronomy class.

* * *

 

When you walk into the bar you see your brother, and he’s talking to some girl, _a customer_ , that’s your first thought, but their conversation seems to last too long and they seem to be too familiar with each other for her to be a simple customer. You sit down at your usual table, anyway, your jaw set tightly, and try not to stare too obviously at the scene in front of you. _It’s nothing_ , you keep telling yourself, hoping that you might believe it if you just repeat it often enough, but when she doesn’t leave after 5 minutes of waiting and your brother hasn’t even noticed your presence, you get up and hurry back home.

* * *

 

 

When you’re at the bar the next time, you can’t spot the girl around; you’re relieved, of course, and sit down at your usual place. Your mood brightens up.

 

Your mood doesn’t bright up all that much anymore when you can’t see him around anywhere, either. _It’s nothing_ , you tell yourself, he’s probably just backstage or talking to some friend and it’s not that girl, not today.

 

Your mood returns to the far-from-bright state it was in before you entered the bar, when she walks out of the restroom, running a hand through her hair and looking around. You grit your teeth.

 

You’re about to cry when your brother stumbles inside from one of the backdoors, laughing, and notices her first. He looks happy, you think, and you get up and leave because you feel like throwing up when you think about how he never looks this happy when he’s around you.

* * *

 

When you walk into the bar the next time, you find your brother talking to her again, but you’re not surprised. He’s noticed you, and greets you with a small nod (and your very private smile, he only ever smiles like that at you, you like to believe). You decided to wait patiently, maybe they are just friends, after all, just like him and this other girl, the fierce, loud one- he’s never showed more than platonical affection towards her. So you take your usual table and wait.

 

After a while, she seems about to leave, and you’re relieved, but she’s kind of nervous and awkward, even more than usually, you notice this even from the distance between the two of you.

 

You know why she’s so giddy when she leans up and kisses your brother a quick good bye before leaving, and he’s frozen in place for solid half a minute before he dares to look at you, but you’re already throwing some cash on the table for the coffee you ordered while waiting and running out of the bar, not daring to look at your brother and his red cheeks or the smile he’ll definitely be wearing and how it wouldn’t be caused by _you_.

* * *

 

You distantly hear him shouting your name behind you, but he’s on shift and he can’t leave and you’re going to use this to your advantage.

 

Still, just to be sure, you decide to take a cab.

 

When you arrive at the apartment complex and in its hallway, you fish for your keys and try to unlock the door, which proves harder than you thought it would be with your eyes full of tears and your hands shaking in fear.

* * *

 

He finds you, still fumbling around with the keys, and presses a hand to the small of your back—but you turn around and snarl at him, eyes puffy and red, and the tears won’t stop dripping from your eyes. You don’t half as intimidating as you wish you would right now, and he smiles at you, apologetic, and says that he’s sorry, but he didn’t do anything, he didn’t, and you press your lips to a thin line and can’t look at him because you know that he’s _right_.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed it! Thank you for reading, and see you soon ♥


End file.
